"Your Grace, you… are truly ruthless!"
Tyrion stared with bulging eyes and muttered dryly.
It wasn't just Tyrion—Clinton, Young Aegon, Septa Lemore, and the others all looked at the Dragon Queen with fearful expressions, deeply disturbed by her words.
"Ruthless? What did I even do? Your sister is the one who's both stupid and insane. What does that have to do with me?" Dany shot back at the dwarf.
"Uh…" Everyone was momentarily stunned by her reply.
Thinking carefully, wasn't she right?
The Dragon Queen hadn't done a thing.She was merely watching the show.
Was she supposed to help her enemy, the Lannisters, clean up their own mess? To help Casterly Rock flourish? To preserve the Lannister dynasty on the Iron Throne?
Tyrion's face twisted in frustration, his two dark nostrils flaring and shrinking as he breathed—quite a terrifying sight.
In the end, he sighed helplessly and muttered, "Father really should've been here to hear what the Queen just said."
"A father who doesn't teach is to blame. He raised the three of you—him reaping what he sowed is only fair," Dany replied with a breezy smile.
Tyrion sighed again and asked curiously, "So, what foolish thing has my sister done this time?"
"Your dear sister crowned your brother with not one, but three cuckold horns, and she even planned to share one with her own son. She sent her lover to seduce Tommen's wife so that Queen Margaery and she could share the same bedmate."
"By the Seven, that's… insane!" Clinton and the others gasped, utterly stunned.
"What was she hoping to achieve? Surely not to bond with her daughter-in-law through a shared lover?" Tyrion chuckled.
"In exchange for 900,000 gold dragons, Cersei allowed the Faith to rearm. And just then, a devout and iron-handed High Septon rose to power," Dany said, seemingly out of nowhere.
Everyone looked both puzzled and shocked.
Shocked that the Faith had regained its military power.
They all knew of the wars between the Targaryens and the Faith Militant. The conflict had spanned several generations, lasting decades, with hundreds of thousands dead—including several kings.
Only after paying a heavy price had the monarchy succeeded in stripping the Faith of its military authority.
Even someone as devout as Baelor the Blessed had never considered reinstating the Faith Militant.
And yet Cersei, without a care, sold off her grandfather's lands.
"Cersei's gone mad," Clinton muttered.
Tyrion's eyes gleamed with realization. "Now I see. That's exactly like my sister. She can't bear anyone—especially a woman, even her daughter-in-law—stealing the spotlight from Queen Cersei.
King's Landing is her stage. A one-woman show. No room for a second leading lady. Especially not one who's more radiant and more beloved by the people.
She disdains mingling with the common folk, refuses to act for their approval—yet she won't tolerate anyone else winning their favor either."
"Heh, so she decided to drag Margaery down with her? Roll around in the filth together?" Dany laughed.
Tyrion's expression turned complicated. "Cersei must've thought she could control the High Septon. Did she have that lover report Margaery to the Faith? If the Faith really had power again, then only the High Septon would be able to judge crimes committed by royalty."
"Hmm, go on. Guess how your sister's story ends," Dany nodded with a smile.
"Your Grace, you said this new High Septon was iron-handed…"Tyrion's face shifted with disbelief. "Don't tell me he not only charged Margaery but also accused my sister? That lover of hers… he turned her in?"
"Sigh, you still underestimate the High Sparrow. He didn't just charge her,"
"'High Sparrow' is what they call the new High Septon," Dany added.
Tyrion's face turned pale. He exclaimed, "That's impossible! Even if the High Sparrow rearmed the Faith, how much power could they possibly have built in so short a time?
How could they stand against the Iron Throne?
My father left at least 2,000 of the Westerlands' best troops in King's Landing."
"What's so impossible about it? What did the High Sparrow do to Cersei?" Young Aegon asked anxiously.
"Cersei was arrested by the High Sparrow and imprisoned in the Great Sept for months. In the end, she was paraded naked through the streets of King's Landing in a walk of atonement. Everyone saw it," Dany said, laughing.
"That's… horrifying!" Young Aegon was stunned.
Clinton, stone-faced, muttered, "Truly, Cersei alive brings more satisfaction to the Lannisters' enemies than her death ever could."
Dany explained to Tyrion, "The Lannister elite forces in King's Landing were all wiped out by the Knight of Flowers at Dragonstone. A thousand died in battle, over five hundred were wounded or crippled.
Only a few hundred who could still walk and run remained to guard the island.
Just half a month ago, I joined forces with Tarth, Claw Isle, and your old subordinate—Bronn Blackwater—and took Dragonstone without a single casualty.
They were indeed elite. Four hundred defenders put up a fierce fight, and fewer than twenty survived.
Your uncle thought the ransom was too high and refused to pay, so now they're all working in the mines under Dragonstone."
"As for the two thousand elite soldiers your father left in King's Landing, they're gone. Completely wiped out."
"Seven hells!" Tyrion smacked his forehead and groaned, "Father, oh Father… you really should be grateful I took you out early. With a sister this stupid, you would've died from sheer rage sooner or later."
"What about Bronn? Why did he side with you?" he asked again.
"His wife, Lollys—you know her, right? After you fled, Cersei put out a bounty, hunting for the noseless dwarf. When Bronn realized how much she hated you, he named Lollys' bastard son 'Tyrion.'"
"Ugh…" The Imp's face twisted in dismay. "Bronn's flattery landed him in deep trouble, made Cersei think he was still in contact with me—and she tried to kill him?"
"Exactly," Dany nodded with a smile. "That's what I like about your sister—her particular brand of madness. After what the High Sparrow put her through, every noble and commoner in King's Landing has seen her at her most humiliated. I believe she has the potential to surpass even my father."
Young Aegon and Clinton exchanged glances, as if confirming whether they had heard correctly.You… you know the Mad King is your father? And you're using him as a benchmark for Cersei?
"Your Grace, I understand your desire to take revenge on the Lannisters. But the people of the Seven Kingdoms are innocent. Westeros is bleeding from division, and my dear sister has only salt to soothe her wounds."
"You should sweep across the land and put an end to the chaos in the Seven Kingdoms at once," Tyrion advised earnestly.
Daenerys looked steadily at the Imp for a long moment before shaking her head and saying, "There are White Walkers beyond the Wall. The Long Night is coming."
"White Walkers? The Long Night? Are you serious?" Tyrion asked, bewildered.
Had the Dragon Queen also gone mad?
"They're real," said an aged voice from the stairwell.
Everyone turned to see two Unsullied carrying a sedan chair.
Sitting atop it was an elderly man in gray robes, his white hair sparse. Beside him stood a short-haired black woman.
"Ah, Maester Aemon! You're really here," Tyrion exclaimed, both surprised and delighted.
As the sedan chair was set down, old Aemon stepped onto the floor with Laresa's help. He sighed, "Tyrion, I never imagined we'd meet again here."
"Yes, the last time we met was at the Wall. In less than three years, we've both come to the other side of the world."
Thinking of the days he had traveled to the Wall with Jon Snow, Tyrion felt deeply moved.
Suddenly, little Aegon cried out, "A dragon!" pointing to Aemon's shoulder.
A palm-sized red dragon clung to Aemon's back, climbing toward his shoulder. Startled by the boy's cry, it spread its blood-red wings and let out a high-pitched roar.
The sound was no louder than a cat's meow, but it carried surprising authority.
"A red dragon? Another dragon?!" Clinton and Tyrion were both stunned.
"Hehe, his name is Bloodflame. We call him Little Red. He hatched not long ago," Aemon said fondly, stroking the little dragon's head with a smile.
Yes, the red dragon had finally hatched.
Back at the King's Tower of the Wall, the red dragon had been on the verge of emerging.
Because of the Three-Eyed Raven, Daenerys reduced the frequency of soul-infusions, deliberately delaying the birth of her fifth dragon.
Even on Dragonstone, she hadn't let the red dragon hatch.
Only after conquering Dragonstone and ensuring the safety of Slaver's Bay did she leave Westeros to hatch the dragon there.
No matter how far the Three-Eyed Raven's influence reached, it couldn't touch Astapor.
Much like the process of hatching her fourth dragon, the golden one, Daenerys brought her fifth dragon into the world amid flames—before Aemon, Jorah, the Dothraki handmaid, and the Unsullied.
Since others had already seen this once before, they weren't too surprised. But for Aemon, witnessing a dragon born from fire for the first time had left him crying out, "A miracle! By the Seven, this is the greatest miracle in the world!"
However, there was one difference from the previous four—this fifth dragon was not made of fire.
The dragon egg taken from Volantis belonged to the Targaryens and dated back 250 years. It hadn't completely petrified yet. Dragon eggs that go unhatched for long periods don't rot like chicken eggs; instead, they gradually solidify, and after a thousand years, they become stone.
After the birth of the fifth dragon, Daenerys was simply too busy—working to perfect the fire and ice meditation techniques with the Song of Wind, and projecting her presence across great distances to handle affairs in Braavos and the Narrow Sea—so the task of caring for the young dragon fell to old Aemon.
It was much like how old villagers come to the city to help raise their grandchildren. Aemon was more than satisfied to look after the young dragon.
The arena behind the Great Pyramid had long ago been converted into a dragon nursery by the Dragon Queen.
It wasn't a place for the dragons to live, just an enclosure with cattle and sheep for the dragons to feed on when hungry.
The Targaryens had suffered too bitterly from generations of dragons deteriorating in caves, and Daenerys had never forgotten that. She would never keep her dragons in caverns again.
Like Daenerys in the past, Aemon trained the young dragon to fly and hunt within the nursery.
Two days earlier, Laresa had arrived in Astapor and resumed her role as the old maester's assistant and apprentice.
By day, she studied with Aemon; after dinner, the Dragon Queen would teach her disciple the secrets of fire magic.
"That red dragon—did it hatch from the egg taken from Volantis?"
Seeing a real dragon up close, Tyrion was inexplicably excited. He wanted to reach out and pet its head, just like Aemon.
He'd heard that dragons were scorching hot. He wondered if it was true—how would it feel to touch?
No, there was no need to wonder. It would definitely feel better than Sansa's… curves—though he had always restrained himself like a gentleman and never dared to try.
"That's a Targaryen dragon egg! The Braavosi stole three from Dragonstone 250 years ago," Aemon said angrily.
"Really? I've never heard of that," Tyrion said in shock.
"If we find the other eggs, could they still be hatched? Since the Braavosi stole three, why haven't they claimed the other two? Also, where are the other dragons?" young Aegon asked, looking around.
I've sent them away, Daenerys thought to herself.
Perhaps sensing something, the largest dragon had taken his brothers into the mountains to hunt before Aegon's group had come upstairs.
After they finished their meal, Daenerys quietly used dragon-communion magic to instruct them to rest for a few days in the "Five-Dragon Cave."
She wanted to assess the character of this so-called nephew of hers before allowing the dragons to return.
"The Braavosi sent the eggs away, handing them over to their allied Dragon-Hatching Mages' Guild," Aemon said helplessly.
Then he noticed Aegon's face and asked in surprise, "Child, are you truly Aegon?"
Having been questioned so many times, Aegon's frustration boiled over. His face turned red as he shouted:
"Of course I am! I'm the son of Rhaegar and Elia—Aegon Targaryen!"
"Don't be upset, child," said old Aemon gently, noticing his irritation. "This is a matter of great importance. We must be cautious."
He then glanced at Daenerys, who wore a calm expression, and sighed. "Varys handled this poorly. At the very least, he should have informed Daenerys earlier."
(End of chapter)
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